


The Best Biscuits in All of Middle-Earth

by Dreaten



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Cookies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaten/pseuds/Dreaten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin is supposed to be an emissary of Thorin, arriving long before the rest of the Dwarves. So why doesn't he arrive until after dark? And why does he persistently go after Bilbo's biscuits?</p><p>A bit of fluff and fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Biscuits in All of Middle-Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [W.D.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=W.D.).



> This was originally created as a gift for W.D., my wonderful editor (and occasional muse), who helped me through a bad state. W.D. specifically asked for something with her favourite Dwarf, Dwalin, and his love of Bilbo's biscuits. 
> 
> Usual edits have not been done, since W.D. is my editor and this was a gift for her. I refuse to let her work on my gift to her.
> 
> This is not intended to be a serious project, merely a way to make my frustrated editor smile.

Why couldn’t Hobbits just live in little rows like men did? It would be easier to find the little homes, instead of having to inspect every single bloody hillside that was scattered about the landscape.

And the map Gandalf had given him was useless.

Why had Thorin said he needed to go ahead? Why couldn’t he have sent Balin first? Or one of his nephews?

Scratch the nephews, the Burglar would never let the rest of them in if Fili or Kili arrived first.

Still, Dwalin was certain he wasn’t the best Dwarf to play envoy. If he didn’t find that stupid little place soon, he might start chopping up those cute little fences and gardens.

Where the bloody hell was this ‘Bag End’ that was marked by the damnable Wizard?!

“My pardons,” Dwalin said, attempting to smile at a little Hobbit who was busy preening a pumpkin patch. Perhaps he could get directions…

The Hobbit turned a pale shade and ran, stumbling over vines and stammering out “Dwarves! Armed Dwarves in the Shire!”

Blast. Hadn’t the Hobbit seen him smile? Smiles meant he was friendly, didn’t they? Didn’t Hobbits smile?

He passed more tidy little Hobbit holes, and finally paused in front of the post box of one little home. Stupid Hobbits and their blasted stupid homes! Bag End should have been easy to find, according to Gandalf! In a bit of temper, he kicked the box. That felt good. So he kicked it again. Repeatedly. The post the box was attached to cracked and collapsed.

“Here now! What do you think you’re doing!” A little Hobbit, a female Hobbit, slammed the door behind her and stalked through her garden. Copper curls bounced and yellow skirts swished as she marched toward her target. “Did you just kick that?” She pointed at the post box.

Dwalin looked down on the tiny creature. She was by no means a youth, but rather someone who knew what she was doing and how to handle herself – that much Dwalin could tell. Anything more than that, he had no idea – Hobbits came in Youth, Regular, and Old… they seemed to stop aging after they reached adulthood, and from the stories he’d heard, they’d age rather rapidly at the end of their lives. So, she was in the Regular age group… which meant she could be just into marriageable age or have twenty little Hobblings running about, Dwalin didn’t know how to tell. She was also at least a foot shorter than him. He really did not want to have to deal with a fussy little Hobbit. “I am a Dwarf, a warrior! If you Hobbits hadn’t made this place so confusing, I wouldn’t be angry! It is best to not anger me even further!” He sneered down at her.

Gandalf had not warned him about Hobbit females…

The next thing he knew, the wisp of a creature had located a fishing pole that had been left against the fence. She scooped up her prize and swung it at Dwalin. Repeatedly. “I’ll show you angry! You go around breaking things and think you’re tough! Irresponsible Dwarf! You had best learn some manners!”

That was... not the reaction he had wanted. Or predicted. Dwalin instinctively put up his hands to protect his head. Was this Hobbit sane? He was armed! Had she no sense of self-preservation? Why would she think that hitting a Dwarf with a fishing pole was a good idea?

Of course, he still hadn’t hit BACK… blasted chivalry his mother had instilled in him.

The Dwarf tried to duck out of the way and down the lane, but the Hobbit merely chased him down, scuttling around him and blocking his way. She finally stopped beating him (not that it had really hurt, the creature had no strength no her), and put her hands crossly on her hips. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“I am looking for Bag End!” Dwalin roared. Being hit with the pole had not helped his temper.

Down came the pole again. “Wrong answer!”

“You are insane!”

“Yes, quite. I’m a Took, after all. We’re all a bit queer. And I know exactly where Bag End is, my cousin Bilbo lives there. You want directions? You give the right answer.” The Hobbit gave him a… very intimidating glare. How could a Hobbit manage a glare?

“And what would the right answer be?” Dwalin growled, eyeing the fishing pole warily.

“It would be ‘I am sorry for breaking your post box, Miss Daisy Lea Took. I will gladly fix it for you'.” The Hobbit instructed.

Dwalin rolled his eyes. A Dwarf did not apologise for his temper, especially not to a tiny thing like this... Daisy-woman. “I do not have time for this.” He started the opposite way down the lane, away from this little fearless creature.

And she scuttled around him yet AGAIN, stopping him just in front of the post box he’d broken. She pointed at it. “You had enough time to break my property. You have enough time to fix it. If you don’t, I’ll tell my cousin Bilbo how terrible you are. You can bet you won’t get whatever you want out of him once he hears that. I’m his favourite cousin.”

“You…” Dwalin was going to follow it up with ‘are a conniving tiny creature that I could step on’. But then he remembered he was supposed to relatively diplomatic. And if this creature ruined their chances at getting the Burglar on their side… He clenched his fist and grated his teeth. “I am sorry for breaking your post box.”

“And you’re going to fix it?”

“Yes.” The Dwarf growled out.

“Ah, good. How lovely of you.” Daisy Lea’s scowl vanished as quickly as it came. “I’m sure I have some spare wood around here, somewhere. And nails. That’s so nice of you to volunteer, I don’t have a good, strong man in my life that can fix it.” She gave him a sideways glance. “And you are certainly strong.”

He didn’t dare leave while she ducked inside a shed, retrieving supplies. He was certain the creature would find him… especially since he was the tallest thing in the Shire. She dragged out an armful of wood, tools, and nails, nearly falling over from the weight of it. “What’re you doing? Trying to kill yerself? That’s all too heavy for you!” Dwalin took the supplies from the Hobbit as if it were nothing.

“Never stopped me before,” she gave him a sneaky glance, then smiled when he turned his back on her. “Take care not to step on the marigolds.”

Dwalin wasn’t sure what marigolds were, but he figured that they were the little yellow flowers all around the broken post. Wonderful. He had to fix the post box AND not damage the flowers. How was he supposed to do that?

First things first. Dwalin pulled – quite literally, in one swoop – the broken post from the ground. No sense in leaving that there. He took the spare Daisy Lea had given him, and proceeded to wedge it into the hole, then used the back of Grasper (that little thing she called a ‘hammer’ was a laughingstock) to pound the post in. it was not a swift task, and the heat from the late evening sun started to get to him as he worked. Bloody Hobbit women with their bloody post boxes.

“Lemonade?”

Dwalin looked up, rubbing the sweat from his bald head out of his eyes. “What?”

The Hobbit held up a tray, complete with pitcher and mugs. “Do you want some lemonade? It’s hot out here. I have some biscuits, too.”

This Hobbit, who had beaten him with a fishing pole and threatened his mission, was now offering him treats?

No, Hobbits were obviously not sane.

Still, it WAS hot out. Perhaps this was meant as a peace offering… “I’ll take that, yes.”

“’Yes’, what?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes….” Dwalin wasn’t exactly sure what was supposed to go with that. What else was she expecting.

“‘Yes, please’,” Daisy Lea sighed. “You Dwarves have no proper manners at all, do you?” She handed him a cup and filled it to the brim with sweet liquid.

“No use for ‘em,” Dwalin muttered.

Daisy Lea took a seat on the grass, watching him as she sipped from her own cup. “Well, I think that’s terrible. Drink up! And eat the biscuits! It’s an insult not to eat food a Hobbit has offered you! Those biscuits are famous, you know. Everyone in the Shire loves them. My cousin Bilbo makes sure he always has a supply, he offers to loan me his books about the Outside World as payment.”

Dwalin grunted.

“What’s it like, outside the Shire?”

Oh, hell. She wanted him to make conversation, too? “Dangerous.”

One could not miss the gleam in Daisy Lea’s eye. “Honestly? I think I would like to see that.”

“Yeh wouldn’t last half a day. Be eaten by wolves or killed by Orcs.” Dwalin frowned. He took a biscuit and ate it. Well, she was certainly right about them being famous! They were probably the best he’d ever had! He quietly snatched up the rest from the plate… no sense in wasting them, after all.

The Hobbit ignored his warnings. “I should like to visit the Outside World one day. Perhaps where you are from. Where are you from?”

“Mountains,” Dwalin said between bites of biscuit.

“Mountains? I would love to see those! Never seen one. We have forests and rivers in the Shire, but no mountains.” Daisy Lea mused.

“Nothing special,” the Dwarf grunted at her. Actually, he could probably talk for hours about the Blue Mountains and Erebor, but… best not to encourage this little creature. He polished off the last of the biscuits and lemonade, and rose to finish the post-box. He removed the old box from the broken post and hammered it to the new one.

It was getting dark by the time he finished. Daisy Lea had put the dishes from their snack away, and she had irritatingly chattered on about wanting to leave the Shire while he finished. He tried to ignore her. It was very difficult. Virtually impossible. “There, done. Good as new.”

Daisy Lea grinned up at him. “My hero. ‘Course, you broke it to begin with…” A frown graced her features for half a second. “But, then, you fixed it. I suppose I must keep my end of the bargain.” She picked herself up off the grass and led him down the lane.

Dwalin followed the Hobbit around a bend, past a market, and over a bridge. It didn’t take Dwalin long to realise that he’d been going completely the wrong way before. She brought him up a hill, all the way to the top, where the post box read ‘Baggins’. Dwalin could see the mark on the door from the gate.

The Dwarf bowed deeply to the Hobbit. “I thank you, my lady.” At the same time, his stomach growled. Those biscuits had been delicious, but not filling, and it was going on supper-time.

The Hobbit laughed, a sweet sounds like silver bells, to Dwalin’s roughened ears. “Come here, I will tell you a secret.” Confused, Dwalin bent forward. “Bilbo keeps lots of food in his home. Be sure he feeds you well, as his guest.” Then, she turned slightly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Before Dwalin could say anything, the tiny Hobbit was turning and heading back down the hillside.

Well… THAT was interesting. That Hobbit didn’t… no, no Hobbit would fancy a Dwarf! It had to be some sort of strange ‘goodbye’ ritual that they had.

Dwalin wiped his mind of any impropriety and let himself into the garden, then banged on Bag End’s door.

That Bilbo better have more of Daisy Lea’s biscuits.

 

**************************************

 

The next morning, the Dwarves left the Shire, filing down the hillside one by one. The Burglar had said he wouldn’t come. Nori was already taking bets as to whether or not the Hobbit would change his mind.

“He won’t do it. I left that contract for no reason.” Balin complained. “It’s a waste.”

Dwalin walked aside his brother, passing a very familiar post box. Daisy Lea was outside, talking to another female Hobbit, one with bright blue eyes. A cousin to the Burglar, hm? She’d wanted to go see the world… perhaps she wasn’t so different from her cousin. “Brother, I will take that bet.” Dwalin grinned. “And I need to speak to that Hobbit. She has something I need.”

Dwalin ignored the incredulous looks of the rest of the Company as he marched over to Daisy Lea Took’s gate. “Does the box work?”

The women exchanged glances, and the other one giggled. Daisy Lea merely smiled. “It does. You are leaving the Shire?”

“Aye. We’ll be gathering supplies.” Dwalin acknowledged. He paused for just a moment, feeling exceedingly awkward. How stupid he was, talking to a Hobbit woman.

“Then I suppose you will need the best biscuits in the Shire,” Daisy Lea smiled. She popped back into her Hobbit hole, leaving the other woman behind, and was back within moments. “Already packed them up in a sack for you. Mind, you’ll have to share with your friends.” She handed them over to him.

Dwalin was too much of an adult to stare at the sweets in the sack. Nor was he going to mention that he had refused to share the biscuits at Bilbo’s, he had no intention of sharing them now. He’d even taken them away from Thorin, NOTHING could make him share these rare treats. “I thank you again, my lady. Perhaps we will see each other again.” It was doubtful that they would ever meet again, but he could still be polite… Hobbits liked manners, didn’t they?

“Yes, of course.” Daisy Lea inclined her head in a light bow.

“Bring that blonde back when you visit. He is delicious.” Daisy Lea’s companion was blatantly staring at Fili. The copper-haired Hobbit frowned at her friend. “What? I’m not married, I can LOOK!”

And with that, Dwalin left the Hobbits, and the Shire, behind.

At least, until Bilbo showed up later in the day, contract trailing behind him like a kite.

Apparently, some Hobbits had a sense of adventure.

 

*********************************

 

Over a year later, Bilbo was finally returning to the Shire. He’d arrived to find his possessions in the process of being sold off, and had protested vehemently about it.

Bilbo hadn’t arrived alone. A Hobbit should never make a journey that long by himself, and Dwalin had taken it upon himself to follow the impetuous creature all the way back to the Shire. He’d taken out a number of thieves and Orcs on the road, all without Bilbo knowing.

It was for the best, and Thorin would have wanted the Hobbit to be safe.

As Bilbo fought to retrieve his belongings, Dwalin tried to slink out of the Shire, quickly and quietly as the night.

“Still no manners! Not even going to say ‘hello’? Tell me that the biscuits were appreciated?”

Dwalin whirled around to find a Hobbit in a yellow dress, pack on her back and arms crossed. “Where… where are you going?”

“Well, you took my cousin! It’s MY turn now!” Daisy Lea grinned up at him. “You’re taking me to see some mountains.”

Indeed, Hobbits were certainly not sane.

 

************************

Epilogue

After many, many months, Dwalin arrived back at Erebor. The journey had been arduous and unfortunately much longer than expected; he was glad to be home.

"Balin! How goes Dain's rule?" Dwalin greeted his brother as soon as he entered the gates. After the proper greeting of a conk to the noggin, they embraced.

"It goes well! Trade has been established and the mines are up and running. Come, come, let us have a pint or three and... brother, what is that?" Balin glanced at the creature standing in the middle of the hall, mouth open in awe of Erebor.

Dwalin smirked. "An insane Hobbit that followed me from the Shire. A cousin of Bilbo, actually. I could not seem to loose her, not even in the most dense forest or on the smallest of mountain paths. She refused to leave me be."

The Hobbit stopped gawking and focused on Balin. Her dress was in tatters, her pack was long gone, though her curls still shone in the torchlight of the mountain. She held a bundle close. "Dwalin, is this the brother you told me about?"

"Balin, at your service. What brings a Hobbit all the way here from the Shire?"

"Dwalin says I am mad. That is likely the truth, but I wanted to see the mountain. This is... incredible. The architecture alone..."

"Balin, this is Daisy Lea." Dwalin grinned. He took the bundle from her. "And Marigold." The Dwarf showed his brother the tiny infant inside, only a few months old, with dark hair and brown eyes. "She would be what took us so long. We call her 'Little Biscuit'."

Balin snickered. "You rascal."

Dwalin grinned like a fool.

**Author's Note:**

> The epilogue was added at the request of W.D., to give a bit more of a concrete ending instead of the open-ended one originally seen.
> 
> Yes, it has an OC, and is a bit Mary-Sue, but this was written specifically to make one person smile, so I honestly don't care. It made her smile, and that was the important thing.
> 
> Thank you for all your hard work and encouragement, W.D.! I adore you!
> 
> P.S. Thanks for letting me know about And Then There Were None!
> 
> P.P.S. I'd say Dwalin let his brother find out about Daisy Lea's temper by himself... and he made sure she had access to a fishing pole.


End file.
